


Old Scars/Future Hearts

by imaginingstars



Series: The Therapy Verse [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, Nightwing (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, But It Doesn't Happen Onscreen, Dick Grayson Needs a Hug, Dick is oblivious, Jason Is Also Oblivious, Jason Plays Guitar, Jason Todd Needs A Hug, M/M, Somebody Hug Both Of These Boys, Until He Isn't And Then Things Get Angsty, Wherein The Boys Go To Therapy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-07
Updated: 2020-06-07
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:20:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24590701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imaginingstars/pseuds/imaginingstars
Summary: Dick stumbles upon Jason playing guitar. Unfortunately, he's hit with a sense of realisation about his own feelings, and even more unfortunately, he doesn't think Jason feels the same.
Relationships: Dick Grayson/Jason Todd
Series: The Therapy Verse [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1777552
Comments: 23
Kudos: 185





	Old Scars/Future Hearts

**Author's Note:**

> So I wrote this as a self-indulgent piece about Jason playing guitar, and then things went off the rails a bit and it ended up angsty and venting. I think I made up for that with a fluffy, humorous sequel, but the works stand alone too.
> 
> The title is the name of a song by All Time Low

Dick remembers Tim and Jason fighting about this.  


“Get a hobby,” Tim had snarled, after another long night of Jason interrupting patrol with his own special brand of ‘helping’.  


“Already got one,” Dick remembers Jason responding flippantly, and he’d written it off as a snide reply. Instead, he’s perched at Jason’s window, early enough that Jason isn’t ready for patrol yet but late enough that he’s comfortable showing up in the Nightwing suit. The sight greeting him is nothing less than beautiful.  


Jason’s sat on the bed, ankles crossed and an acoustic guitar in his hands. Dick can’t stop staring at the way his fingers press down the strings, the taut muscles in his arms, the soft expression on his face as he plucks at the strings. The white portion of Jason’s hair flops down into his eyes, and he brushes it away without looking away from the tablature. Dick’s breath hitches. He’s never seen such a gentle scene with Jason, even before the younger man had died. Jason acts like he’s all sharp edges and brittleness, and Dick’s long since wondered when he truly relaxes. It seems that he has his answer.  


It feels like there’s a hand tightening around Dick’s heart. Looking at Jason like this, even though he hadn’t meant to spy, feels like an invasion of privacy, but Dick isn’t thinking about that right now. Instead, all his brain can think of is Jason looking that soft when he knows Dick’s there, Jason waking up next to him with sleep-tousled hair and that same gentle light in his eyes, Jason’s fingers, so strong against the guitar strings, intertwined with Dick’s whilst they walk through Wayne International Plaza with no real destination in mind, and...  


_Oh. Oh no_. This is a problem.  


Because now that Dick’s started, he can’t stop. He thinks of those strong arms wrapped around him at night, of lazy afternoons at a coffee shop together, of Jason’s rare but breath-taking smile. He shakes out of his reverie just in time for Jason to start singing softly. Dick’s never thought much about Jason singing, but if he had he wouldn’t have pegged him as having such a low, smooth voice, melding beautifully with the melody made by the guitar.  


And now Dick’s thinking of a smile curving the lips he can see forming the words, and of hearing those lyrics directed at him as Jason sings, “I can’t help falling in love with you.”  


People have always said that Dick falls in love too hard and too fast. He knows they’re right, in a way at least, because the realisation that he’s in this deep always hits suddenly. But he knows without question that he’s been in love with Jason for weeks, months, maybe even years, and he hasn’t realised. He wants to be the reason for the slight upturn to Jason’s mouth like the one he can see during moments when he’s not singing. He wants to be the reason Jason can share the gorgeous music he’s making without feeling self conscious. He wants to walk down the street, holding Jason’s hand and reminding people that yes, this stunning man chose to be with him. Dick _wants_ so much, and he can’t imagine Jason ever wanting it in return. 

* * *

After Jason finishes, Dick sits spellbound for another moment. It turns out to be his undoing, as Jason has time to put the guitar down and register Dick’s presence before turning to him. Dick slides in through the window as Jason’s face slides into its usual dismissive expression.  


Dick pretends he can’t feel his heart breaking at that.  


“Being creepy, are we, Dickie?” Jason sneers, the nickname twisting his mouth in a way that Dick still can’t think of as ugly, because no matter how vicious the expression, Jason’s the one making it. Dick opens his mouth, then shuts it again. He averts his eyes and feels the blush rise in his cheeks, burning with humiliation and rejection.  


“I’m sorry,” he says, trying to hide the shaking in his voice. He’s fairly certain he’s going to cry, and he _hates _himself for that. Less than five minutes of realising how he feels about Jason, and already a cruel word from him brings tears to his eyes. Bruce would be ashamed of him, being unable to control his emotions whilst in his Nightwing costume.  
__

__Jason scoffs. “I’m sure you are.”  
_ _

__Dick already can’t stand this. He can’t spend the rest of the night on patrol with Jason like this, he can’t face Jason’s snide comments and biting remarks. He curls his hands into fists, knowing that if he weren’t wearing his gloves, he’d feel his fingernails digging into his palm.  
_ _

__“I’m going to go,” he tells Jason quietly, before gracefully leaping out of the window he’d entered only a minute before.  
_ _

__“We’re supposed to patrol together, you asshole,” Jason hisses out after him, but Dick’s already gone, grappling up a neighbouring building and not stopping until he’s well outside Jason’s territory.  
_ _

__He enters a safe house of his own, unknown even to Bruce, or so Dick hopes. He peels off his mask and feels the hot tears spill down his cheeks and, slumping into the shitty couch in the sitting room, buries his face in his hands.  
_ _

Thinking about it, he probably should have noticed how he felt before now. Those times where Jason and Bruce have been fighting ( _again_ ) and his first instinct was always, _always_ to run after Jason and comfort him. The three occasions – because yes, he’s been counting – since Jason’s return to the family when Jason has accepted and returned a hug from him, and Dick’s felt so safe, so _peaceful_ , wrapped in the arms of the scrawny little Robin who turned into this strong, independent man who is the only one in the family other than Bruce to be able to truly engulf Dick in his embrace. The times he’s headed to Jason’s before patrol before the latter has eaten dinner, leading to Jason cooking surprisingly well as Dick basks in the domesticity of it.  


How did he not _realise_?  


__He sends a message to Tim, crying off patrol and blaming illness, begging the younger to meet Jason and go in his place. Dick strips off his outfit, shrugging on some pyjama bottoms and a soft shirt he’d kept after he’d bled all over Jason’s apartment and the latter had bandaged him up and provided his own shirt for Dick to get comfortable in since he only had the Nightwing suit with him. Come to think of it, the shirt is probably making things worse, but Dick can’t bring himself to care. He flicks on the TV, letting the sounds of Brooklyn 99 wash over the room, and tries to forget._ _

____

* * *

____

He doesn’t remember falling asleep, but he must have done, because it’s several episodes later when he jolts awake to the sound of a voice.  


“Heard you weren’t feeling good.”  


Jason’s face comes into focus as Dick blinks up at him before turning his eyes to the ground. He can’t even bring himself to look Jason in the face, knowing how he feels and also being aware that it’s only a recent development that Jason’s even been able to stand being in the same room as him. Jason’s still in his body armour and jacket, and he hasn’t even shed his guns, but his helmet and domino mask are both off.  


Dick doesn’t know how respond, so there’s an awkward pause before Jason continues.  


“I didn’t... I didn’t know you weren’t feeling great, so if what I said was too shitty, I guess... I’m sorry.” Jason sounds uncomfortable apologising, and Dick can’t remember ever hearing Jason apologise to him for anything.  


“It’s fine. You should go,” Dick says. It’s stilted and choked up, the sobs from earlier still stuck in his throat, closing it up so he can barely speak.  


“Hey,” Jason says, sounding genuinely alarmed as the tears spring from Dick’s eyes once again, “Are you crying? Shit, Goldie, don’t cry.”  


It just makes Dick cry harder, because he’s worried Jason, somehow. He’s never going to be able to elicit any emotions but negative ones from the younger man, nothing but anger, and worry, and stress, and hatred. He’s so overwhelmed with his own feelings tonight that every emotion feels magnified tenfold, and he can’t help but scold himself internally for sobbing so much over something which is, in the general scheme of things, so utterly trivial.  


Jason’s looking desperately around the safe house for something, anything, to cheer Dick up. He clearly doesn’t find what he’s searching for, because instead he awkwardly folds himself down into the corner of the sofa and pulls Dick a clumsy hug. _Hug number four_ , Dick counts to himself, as he buries his face in Jason’s shoulder. The other vigilante smells like gunpowder and forests and the freshly-baked cake Dick had seen on the side in his apartment, and it’s an unusual, semi-unexplainable combination which leaves Dick breathless.  


“You wanna, uh. Talk about it?”  


“I can’t,” Dick says.  


“‘Course you can, Goldie, you’ve always been better at the touchy-feely shit than the rest of us.”  


“Don’t _call_ me that!” Dick wrenches himself out of Jason’s arms and over to the other side of the sofa, wrapping his own arms around himself in a lacklustre imitation of the soothing embrace. Jason looks startled at the fury and self-loathing in Dick’s voice.  


“Fuck, Dick! It’s not like it’s wrong, is it?” He’s on the defensive, and it’s exactly what Dick didn’t want.  


“It is,” Dick says, voice low and bitter, “I’m nothing golden. I’m not perfect, and even the people who think I am hate me for it.” _You hate me for it_ , he doesn’t add, but he’s fairly certain Jason knows that’s what he meant, and he doesn’t like that at all. Jason’s face is blank, unreadable, and Dick hates it. Even Jason scowling at him is better than being unable to tell what he’s thinking.  


“You’re the favourite, you have to know that,” Jason says, and there’s a hint of exasperation in his tone, and just a tiny bit of confusion. It’s a carefully unemotional statement, and Dick can only recognise the feelings he’s drawn out of it because he knows Jason so well.  


“Even if I am, where does it get me?” Dick asks rhetorically, pulling his legs in closer to himself. “I’m the oldest, and whenever anything goes wrong it’s my fault. I didn’t realise Bruce was still alive when I had to be Batman, I handled everything wrong with Tim. When Bruce came back, I just left Damian behind because I thought it was best. I... I was never there for you. I’ve never done it right, and I couldn’t even commit to the one thing that you came back wanting. I can’t even be there for you now because that’s not what you want, and I’m still being selfish about it. I... I’m not the favourite. _I_ never was. It’s always _Robin_ who’s the favourite, because Robin’s with Batman. Everyone else works apart from him, and everyone else only really has emotional connections to _Bruce_ , not _Batman_. And we all know which one he thinks he really is.”  


Jason looks startled, the carefully crafted blankness wiped right off his face. He seems to be about to say something, but Dick’s started talking, and he can’t seem to stop. The words trip off his tongue, almost falling over each other in their desperation to come out.  


“It’s why I was awful to you, when you were Robin. You were the favourite, and I wasn’t, and I never would be again because I could see it, even then. And I knew that if you questioned him, you’d end up in the exact same position I did, because _Bruce Wayne_ loves us, loves the whole family, equally, but _Batman_ only loves Robin, and that means there’s always going to be a favourite. And I fucked up, Jay, I fucked up so _bad_ , because you deserved better. You always have, you always will, you deserve this world and all the other worlds out there, in this universe and all of the others we’ve stumbled into, and all the ones we haven’t even found yet. You deserved me taking care of you, treating you right, being there to help you when you got into shitty situations. I... You shouldn’t have died alone, I should have been with you, I should have been at your funeral, I shouldn’t have found out months later after being off-world. I failed you because I wasn’t good enough. I’m nowhere near perfect. I’m still fucking up now, because it’s about you, really, it should be about you, and I’m being selfish again, because I’m keeping you here and you feel like you have to stay. You’re here with me because I can’t let you go, and I don’t want to, but I know I’ll have to in the end, because even if you found someone you wanted to stay for, it would never be me.”  


Jason’s brow furrows, and Dick thinks he’s going to argue, going to hit him, going to do something, but instead he just looks... He looks impossibly sad.  


“I didn’t... I never thought you saw it that way. But I... Shit, I’m bad at this. But... Dick. Haven’t you realised by now that you’re the only thing I stay for?”

____

* * *

____

Dick’s heart feels like it stops. Jason can’t mean what he’s implying, he just _can’t_. He wants to take what he’s been given and run, but he can’t seem to stop trying to ruin it for himself. He takes a breath, opens his mouth, and goes to correct Jason.  


“I don’t think you get it,” he says quietly, willing himself not to start crying again. He wipes away a stray tear, and speaks again. “I... I’m in love with you, Jaybird, and I have been for so long that I don’t even know when it started.”  


He doesn’t see Jason move, but suddenly the two of them are right next to each other on the beaten-up old couch. Dick tries to keep his gaze fixed on the floor, but Jason gently takes his face in his hands (those hands, with those elegant fingers which had led to all of this, really, through Jason’s guitar playing) and turns it so that Dick has no choice but to look him in the eyes.  


“I’m glad you clarified,” Jason says, gruffly but sincerely, “Because you’ve confirmed that I really did get it. Honestly? I’ve been in love with you since the day I met you, and ‘cause I’m bad at showing it, I’ve spent all this time pushing you away. I ain’t done nothin’ to deserve you, Dickie, but if this is you confessing, and wanting to do something about it? Then I’m taking it and not letting you pretend you didn’t say it, because if you’re selfish then I’m even more selfish, and if you’re offering then I’ll take everything. I shouldn’t get someone as good as you, and if you’ll let me, I swear to God I’ll tell you every fucking day that you’re good enough.”  


“I want that.” Dick cuts himself off, but Jason knows him as well as he knows Jason.  


“But?” Jason prompts. He’s clearly nervous about what Dick’s about to say, but he’s always been stupidly stoic about things that could hurt him.  


“You know we can’t do this right now, don’t you?”  


Jason’s face had begun to fall, but he catches it when Dick finishes the sentence.  


“Right now?”  


“It’s not healthy, Jay. I need to... I need to sort myself out, work on my baggage. And... I think you do too. You can’t go into this seeing me as Bruce’s golden boy, and we can’t be partners whilst you still... When you still think I’m better than you in some way.”  


“I know,” Jason says, and it’s like all the fight’s gone out of him, “I know you’re right. But what does that mean about this? About _us_?”  


“It means... We do a rain check. If we both still want it when we’re in a better place, we can have what we want.”  


Jason smiles ever so slightly, and so does Dick. They both have a chance of getting what they want. It’s about time.

____

* * *

____

_One Year Later_  


It’s raining, but it’s Gotham, so Dick isn’t surprised. He’s soaked to the bone, perched on the windowsill outside Jason’s apartment. The younger man’s sat on the bed, guitar in his hands. It’s a familiar scene, albeit with a different song, and Dick smiles softly. If he could see himself, he’d recognise the depth of the emotion in his eyes, the soft upward tilt of his mouth, as being signs of love. Jason’s immersed in what he’s singing, and the beautiful irony of the song he’s chosen given the situation registers in Dick’s mind – he’s playing _Unchained Melody_. “Wait for me,” indeed.  


It’s not like Dick could do anything else.  


As Jason finishes, he notices Dick’s there, and opens the window fully so that Dick can climb in.  


“I think we’ve been here before,” he says, mouth quirking upwards.  


“I’m pretty sure I like it better this time,” Dick replies wryly.  


“Me too.”  


Jason hands Dick a towel from his linen cupboard, and Dick rubs it absently over his face and hair. There’s a brief pause, charged with anticipation, before Dick speaks again.  


“Therapy’s been going well.”  


“So’s mine.”  


“You know why I’m here, don’t you?”  


“I know why I _hope_ you’re here.” Jason’s eyes betray how cautiously optimistic he is.  


“I love you, Jason.”  


“I love you too.”  


Jason’s clearly more confident in expressing his emotions, and Dick registers distantly that he really has benefited from this past year. He knows that he himself has, that he feels happier with himself and his position in the family. It’s not perfect, it probably never will be, but he’s in a place where he can really live his life the way he wants. He can’t change the past, and so many of the things he’d blamed himself for were things he couldn’t have changed, or things which, though misguided, had been attempts to do the right thing.  


Right now, though, the right thing is focusing on the man in front of him.  


“Can I kiss you?” Dick asks.  


“Anytime, beautiful,” Jason promises.  


So he does, and it feels like coming home.

____


End file.
